Undiscovered
by SerenaRoseOfficial
Summary: my own story with made up characters. until i can find a site that allows you to publish your independent work, this will do. Crystal is a lonely woman who faces a big life changing decision, but what will she discover along the way?
1. PROLOGUE

**Undiscovered**

_Hey everyone! This is my pen name, Serena Rose. This is my first novel and the initial idea came to me when I was fourteen (14) years old. I am now eighteen (18) and ready to pursue the dusty, cobwebbed story from it's locked chest. I am older, wiser, more educated and more mature. _

_However, this is still a kinda rough draft. Things may change as the story unfolds and develops. _

_Please feel free to comment, and if you wish to criticise please make it as constructive, and friendly and as polite as possible. =_

_I am ready._

_Hope you enjoy the ride._

_x Serena Rose x_

Prologue

Standing here leaning on the cold stone wall, overlooking the River Thames on a warm, summer evening made me realise I had everything in the palm of my hand. I had the world, I had the future, I had life itself.

I'm 24 and next to me was the tall, handsome man I had spent the past two years trying to catch. He smiled a Hollywood smile and the twinkle in his eyes twinkled so bright that the stars above shone furiously down on him out of jealousy. His brown wind-swept hair was still perfect and I, Crystal, was standing next to him. The peaceful river was quite still, with only a few small ripples. The lights from the buildings and the passing headlights from cars on the other side made the Thames glow like a name does in Theatre. The buzz of the street and roads behind us was ignored as the both of us delved into a bubble, the hollering from people and cars muted. The only sound I could hear was the laughter spilling from his and my lips, uncontrollably, as if it were puke I couldn't hold down. In fact, I was laughing so much I thought that I would, in fact, puke.

"No, no, no," he said between fits of giggles, "our future daughter would be called Ermintrude."

"Ermintrude?!" I exclaimed, "Gertrude is much better."

"What if we had a son?" He questioned, his left arm leaning on the cold stone wall and he faced me more, his eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer.

"...We would name him..." I paused, and thought deeply for the most archaic and ghastly name I could muster, "Algernon."

My man stifled a laughter at first, but then erupted like lava spills from the mouth of a volcano. His infectious laugh soon infected me and we once again began to chortle like teenagers, and our music echoed and rebounded from the skyscrapers around us, and passer-bys gave us weird looks but we didn't care. We were in our own world, our own little bubble.

He rested both arms on the wall now, folded, facing out to the river as he stared at the dark ink blue sky. "Where would we live?" He asked, in a soft, tender voice. I copied his body language and sighed thoughtfully, my eyebrows furrowed.

"The country," I answered finally, "Away from the obnoxious, money obsessed city people. We'd be in one of those stony cottages with a path leading up to the wooden door, flowerbeds and shrubs enclosed like our own private mini forest. Good country air, clear skies, new people, privacy..."

"That sounds pretty boring," he snorted. I abruptly turned to face him.

"Alright then, you choose." I mocked. He didn't take long to reply.

"We'd stay here."

"You what?"

"What's wrong with London?"

"You want me to list?" My right arm stayed on the wall, my left hand placed firmly on my hip. I smiled at him, but out of disbelief. "You always complain about London."

"Doesn't mean to say I hate the place. I like the buzz here, the work. I live here, it's my home. It always has been."

"Well maybe it's time for a change."

"You think so?"

He looked at me quizzicly, wondering if my statement was true. I softened and turned to face the wall again, my left hand closing in on his.

"Don't you think a break would do us good? We've had a lot going on."

He breathed heavily through his nose and his shoulders dropped, relaxed. He looked down.

"I know. Maybe a break is calling us after all."

I leaned in closer to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his muscles underneath his crispy jacket, and eventually my hand snaked round the small of his back into a tight hug. His head rested on top of mine.

"We could live here during the winter and spring for work, and then move to the country house for the summer and autumn. A break for us and a break for our future children. We'd live a perfect lifestyle."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

I felt his eyelashes droop and I knew he had closed his eyes, dreaming of our future. Together.

The moon was high in the sky now and I knew it was well past midnight, yet the city ceased to sleep. The water and time itself felt as though it had come to standstill, it seemed we were separated from reality.

My thoughts started to waver and I was finding it difficult to see him standing next to me. I was tuning in and out like a television finding it hard to discover a signal; someone's voice was shouting but the sound indistinguishable; the images around me changed to a grubby, dirty ceiling, and back to a perfect twilight sky; back and forth, back and forth like a tennis match, the crowd was jeering and cheering behind, but everything was soon muffled.

My eyes fully opened and I heard the loudest bang on the door. Everytime I heard the rattle my brain rattled with it, pulsating like a heart about to explode. My eyes squinted and winced everytime they clashed. I tried to speak with my mind as my mouth was unwilling to open, but the headache continued.

"OI, YOU GOTTA GET UP, WORK STARTS IN TWO HOURS AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GONE IN THE BATHROOM YET! I START WORK IN HALF AN HOUR AND YOU TAKE LONGER THAN I DO!"

I grabbed my pillow and placed it over my ears, hoping it would all go away. My eyes opened to a blurry vision of my bedside cabinet next to me, which was smothered with a Ben and Jerry's ice cream tub, tablets, a glass of water, tissues and a few chocolate wrappers.

Now it all came back to me, and it all made sense.

We weren't separated from reality. I was.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I could hear my room-mate, Harrisson, cluttering around in the kitchen on purpose, singing "Oh What A Beautiful Morning" at the top of his gay voice.

"Ooohhhhh...what a beautifuuull mooooorrrrniiiing...ohh what a beautiful daaaaay..."

I grabbed the nearest hard object and threw it at my door. Its smash echoed around my room, vibrating against my headache, and the shattered glass fell to the floor in a clump of splintered shards.

I had a flashback of glasses chinking together, the sound of bottles clanging.

I could hear the water dripping down my door, which made me reminisce of the drinking games that were held the previous night, the poison flowing into glasses and down people's throats.

I also heard silence. Harrisson had shut up, knowing it was serious.

Even the silence worsened my hang-over. I felt a huge burden and a sense of loss hanging over me much like the blanket that was laying above my limp body. It's weight started to bear down on me, each dark corner of my room was hiding secrets, whispering to each other, the items on my bedside cabinet was screaming at me about what happened last night, but I couldn't quite hear them. I remember nothing...nothing but glasses and wine.

Desperately I tried to think about my dream. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping to see flashing images but all I saw was black. I couldn't remember any noises, or any faces, or any settings...I just remember being happy.

Happy. I knew what that meant...only one person could make me happy.

I could hear Harrisson's footsteps enter the bathroom next to me, and then I heard the shower turn on. I knew my true wake up call had arrived so I crawled out of bed, and crawled out of my hiding place. The sun shone down on me from the windows and I felt like crawling back into my dark sanctuary. I peeked at myself in the full length mirror opposite my door and winced at my so-called reflection; I was so pale, my eyes were dark and I looked so frail. God knows how much I drank last night. But why? Where was I?

I lived in a little less than average flat, where the living room and kitchen kinda joined together. To the left of the full length mirror was a row of kitchen cupboards and drawers. I placed my hands on the surface and pulled myself up, my legs rather weak. I groaned loudly as I saw the calendar; it was Wednesday, which meant that I not only had to work, but we were only half way through the week. I stared at the phone hanging on the wall and seriously started to contemplate about whether to phone in sick or not, but something was niggling at the back of my mind.

Something about work...

The shower had turned off, and a few seconds later Harrisson appeared with a white fluffy towel round his middle, exposing his slim line body.

"Hey sweet cakes." He said, with a sympathetic smile. I stared absent-mindedly in return, my expression blank, as he came over and grabbed a glass, walked to the fridge and grabbed the fruit juice carton. He started to pour some in the glass and continued to talk. "How did you sleep?"

I rubbed my eyes. "I can't even remember the night, just a few clips. I don't even know what time I fell asleep."

"Or fell unconscious." He added and I looked at him questioningly. Did I really fall unconscious? He looked at me with those sparkling brown eyes and chuckled. "Only kidding, pet."

"Harrisson, can you tell me what happened last night?"

He pursed his lips, paused, and then put the fruit juice back. I started to get a little impatient with his silence but he soon spoke up.

"I'm not sure Christie. I wasn't there. All I can tell you is that I got a call from your friend Shelly at about 2:30am telling me that you were excessively drunk and that...well...things were starting to get out of hand."

"Oh Jesus," I wimpered, and rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. "How 'out of hand' did things get?"

"Look at what you're wearing, pet." He said solemnly, and walked away to the lived-in sofa and grabbed the remote, feet up on the coffee table. I looked below and was absolutely horrified; I didn't get changed into my pyjamas. Instead, I had slept in my satin ivory dress which was torn at some parts (no doubt I had fallen over, as I also discovered multiple bruises on my legs) and a huge chunk of stained red wine down my front. The dress was from ASOS and cost £95, and was absolutely tarnished. My eyes started to well up with tears, but I wasn't sure if it was because of my dress or because of something else. Why did I behave so badly?

"Christie, the bathroom's free don't forget." Harrisson reminded, "Jared will go mental if you're late."

My head perked up. My throat was clogged. My hand automatically went towards my mouth and my legs carried me to the bathroom.

To be sick.


End file.
